My Brother's Car
by Noxbait
Summary: Set S12 just prior to "The Raid." Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. But he valued his life too much to make a joke about it. If Dean was seriously suggesting they take his precious car to an actual shop, things were dire, indeed.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi Everyone! Just a lighthearted story here. Been a jolly amount of angst on the show of late (and yes, I do have a fic coming up that will reflect upon these past episodes), but I thought we might all need something a little more humorous right now.**

 **This story is set in Season 12, just prior to the episode "The Raid" (12.14).**

 **It's divided into two chapters simply to make it a little easier to read because it got pretty long. :D**

* * *

"I hate you."

Sam laughed.

"I do," Dean insisted. "I really hate you right now."

"I know. I know you do." Sam tried his best to hide the fact he couldn't stop smiling. Forced himself not to laugh.

Dean's expression changed from fury to utter devastation as he stared past Sam at the offending object. Following his brother's gaze, Sam shifted from one foot to the other. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea after all. He'd thought it would be hilarious. Thought maybe Dean would even see the humor in it after awhile. And maybe he would.

Eventually.

Right now, though, it looked like Dean might cry.

"Dean, it's temporary." Sam tried to be encouraging even though that smile was trying to sneak out again. "Look. It's just for a few days-"

"A _few_ days?" Dean's eyes about popped out of his head as he looked up. "The guy said a couple days! Not a _few_ days!"

Clearly Sam had been underestimating the seriousness of the situation. He was going to have to watch what he said for the next few - _couple_ \- days. "You're right. You're right. A couple days. Let's...let's just go, ok? Get your mind off it."

Dean shook his head and looked at the car behind Sam. His expression turned even more morose. "How am I gonna get my mind off it, Sam? How?"

This time he couldn't hide it. Sam smiled and said, "Come on. Time to go."

It took another minute before Dean pushed himself up from the curb where he'd been sitting for the last five minutes staring at the rental car. Sam felt like it was some sort of victory. He'd known this wasn't going to be easy. He'd just never expected it to be quite this difficult.

"You want me to-"

"Give me the damned keys."

Sam lost the battle. He laughed.

"Shut up or I'm leaving you here," Dean practically shouted. He wrenched the door open and stood there staring into the car. Lowering his head, Dean pressed his fingers to his eyes. "Sam?"

"Yeah?" Sam leaned on the edge of the passenger side door and looked at Dean over the top of the car. He had the laughter mostly under control, but the whole smiling thing was a battle he'd given up trying to win.

Dean lifted his head and honest to goodness _whined,_ "I miss my Baby."

"I know, man. I know." Sam's amusement began to fade.

He'd known how difficult this would be for his brother, but seeing exactly how brokenhearted Dean was over the situation, Sam decided it was time to stop teasing him. Even if it had only been twenty minutes that he'd been without his Baby.

"Dean, let's go get some pie."

"Yeah." Dean nodded, looking back over his shoulder at the auto shop.

Sam could have sworn Dean was brushing tears out of his eyes. He kept his mouth shut, though, and simply got into the passenger side of the car. It took Dean another minute before he got behind the wheel.

Dean took a deep breath and started the car. It sounded _so_ wrong that even Sam cringed. He felt his brother spearing him with the most scathing stare he'd ever received. This might have been his worst idea ever.

Trying futilely to save his own skin, Sam said, "It's got a-"

"I know what it's got, Sam," Dean whined, staring at the dashboard with hatred. "It's got a damned V6."

"Dean-"

"What the hell is that noise?"

Sam frowned, looking around too for the answer to the offending beep. "Uh, I think it's the seat belt alarm."

"The _what?"_ If Dean had tried he couldn't have sounded any more furious.

"The seatbelt," Sam said, buckling up and then staring over at his brother. He tried so hard not to laugh.

Dean glared at him. "I hate you so much right now, damnit. No car should be bitching at me."

"You sure you don't want me to drive?"

"Sam-"

"Fine, ok." Sam held up his hands, finding himself hoping with everything he had in him that the repairs on their Impala weren't going to take long.

Dean put the rental car, a shiny black 2017 Impala, into drive and pulled out of the driveway, griping the entire time. Sam prayed for patience. If they could just get to the restaurant. If he could get Dean some pie...maybe then he would-

"What is that?"

"What is what?" Sam looked at the five million display icons on the dashboard. The six million buttons and knobs. He was sort of glad he _wasn't_ driving because this...this wasn't a car. It was a freakin' spaceship.

"That. Right there." Dean jabbed at a display.

"Huh."

"Huh? What's that supposed to-"

"Dean, watch where you're driving, ok? Let me look at the-" he motioned at the mess, "-this. And buckle up."

"Yeah." Dean snorted. "That's not gonna-"

"It's gonna keep beeping the entire time unless you-"

They pulled up to a red light and Dean griped and cursed and complained and acted like a two year old having a tantrum. But he put his seat belt on. He was white knuckling the steering wheel as he asked, "So, what was it?"

"Oh, it's wi-fi." Sam grinned. "The car has wi-fi."

Dean rolled his eyes and stepped on the gas pedal harder than was strictly necessary. "Of course you'd be excited about that."  
"I might as well be. You don't like a single-"

"What is there to like? This thing has the same name, but it isn't-" his voice trailed off.

Sam took pity on him. "I know, man. I get it. Hey, I'm ready to get our car back, too. This is only temporary, ok? Not the first time we've had to use another car-"

"It's the first time I couldn't fix 'er, Sam."

And that right there was the main issue.

Sam felt even worse about thinking this would be funny. Dean had rebuilt the Impala from the frame up. Twice. But they'd had Bobby's garage, his engine lift, and all his tools before. Now they didn't have any of that.

The Impala was part of the family and the only thing of value - besides each other - that they had.

Sam couldn't fix the Impala, but he could do his best to distract his brother. "Let's get something to eat, ok?"

Dean shot him a glare. "You're buying."

"I'm buying." Sam smiled. It was the least he could do.

* * *

 _Earlier…_

"Dean-"

"Shut up, Sam."

"Dean-"

"Shut up, Sam." This time the statement was accompanied with the sound of something heavy hitting the far wall.

Sam decided he should be grateful whatever it was had hit the wall and not his face. He sighed and sat down on the garage floor with his back against the left rear tire of the Impala. Wiping a hand over his face, he waited. The garage fell silent. He stared at the far wall. And waited. It took five minutes.

"Sam."

"Yeah?"

"I don't think it's the carburetor."

He hadn't thought so either, but since Dean hadn't appreciated his opinion when he'd said it the first time - or any of the subsequent times - Sam had given up.

Sam leaned his head against the side of the car and wondered where they went from here.

"I need an engine lift."

"Ok." That sounded like an easy solution. "You wanna go buy one?"

Dean snorted, then something else hit the wall. "Buy one? You got any idea how expensive they are?"

"Uh...no."

"Expensive."

"Ok." Sam frowned, trying to come up with another solution.

If Bobby were still alive, they wouldn't even need to discuss this. Bobby'd had an engine lift. He'd had everything they'd ever needed. But there hadn't been much left the last time they'd gone by the salvage yard and being back there had been extremely difficult on both of them. So he definitely wasn't bringing Bobby up right now.

"I'm gonna have to take her to a shop," Dean said, in a horrified whisper.

Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. But he valued his life too much to make a joke about it. If Dean was seriously suggesting they take his precious car to an actual shop, things were dire, indeed. So he kept his mouth shut and waited.

After a long moment, he heard his brother getting to his feet. Sam glanced up when Dean walked around the front of the car. He looked so miserable that Sam didn't even _want_ to tease him.

"Dean?"

"Sammy, I don't know what to do," Dean said, holding his hands up helplessly. "I can't fix this."

Sam pushed himself to his feet. "Ok, man. We can deal with it."

His words didn't seem to be consoling his brother. Dean shook his head, looking at the engine. Meeting Sam's eyes again, Dean said, "This isn't a ghost. We can't gank this! It's not a werewolf or a-"

Amused by the fact his brother seemed to think the only things they could fix or deal with were monsters, Sam soothed, "It's a car repair. You've kept the car running all these years. Maybe this is one thing you're gonna need a little help with, but that's ok."

Dean didn't look any happier, but Sam knew until the Impala was roadworthy, he probably wasn't going to look anything but morose. Sam gently closed the hood and wiped his hands on his pants, staring at the car as his brother came to stand next to him.

"Let's go get cleaned up and then I'll look for a repair shop." Sam caught a brief nod of Dean's head. Satisfied, Sam led the way out of the garage and back into the bunker.

It was a simple situation as far as he was concerned, but he knew his brother didn't see it that way.

* * *

Sam thought it was all so simple.

 _Just a car repair. Just look for a garage._

Dean threw his shirt against the wall, then turned on the shower. He knew he was being ridiculous. There had been a few repairs over the years that had required more "professional" help. Sure, his dad and Bobby had taught him everything there was to know about cars, but sometimes he just didn't have the tools he needed.

Knowing how to keep a car in running condition was a necessity in their line of work. He might never have become an expert at it, but Dean knew even Sam could take care of almost anything that went wrong with the car, too. For the most part, the repairs hadn't been Sam's job, but he knew more about the car than anyone other than Dean did. And he could deal with, and _had_ dealt with, almost any issue or repair necessary.

But this time, it was beyond both of them.

Stepping under the warm spray of water, Dean tried to calm down. If they had all the tools and equipment they'd had at Bobby's place, Dean probably could fix it. But they didn't and Dean couldn't help it if he felt like a failure somehow.

By the time he finished with his unusually extended shower, gotten dressed, and wandered into the kitchen, he was a little calmer. Sam was on the phone and gave him a thumbs up. Dean stared at him for a moment, but his brother was busy on the phone and not talking to him. Taking the thumbs up and Sam's smile as a good sign, Dean grabbed a couple beers out of the fridge and sat down across from his brother.

After a minute, Sam ended the call and said, "It's all set up."

Dean thought about complaining that Sam didn't know what the car needed or how to make a car repair appointment, but dismissed the notion immediately. No one was better at research than Sam was. If he'd found a repair shop, then Dean knew it was the best one in the vicinity.

Passing him a beer, Dean nodded. "Ok. When do we go?"

"We can drop it off today and they'll give us an estimate, but they're not going to be able to start the repairs until tomorrow most likely."

"So we gotta...we gotta get a _rental?"_ Dean spit the word out distastefully.

Sam smiled. "Unless you wanna walk back home, yeah, we gotta get a rental."

"I'm not walking, Lance Armstrong."

"For the last time, Lance Armstrong is not a runner, nor a walker," Sam said as if he were reciting a school lesson to a small child, "he is a cyclist."

"Well whatever. You and your healthy fetishes can do what you want. I need a car."

"Being healthy isn't a-" Sam broke off, shaking his head. Obviously he realized how useless it would be to try to continue that line of thought. "When do you want to go?"

"Now." Dean pushed the chair back. "Sooner the better."

"Ok. While you talk to the shop, I'll get us a rental."

Dean glared at him. "It better be badass."

"I'll do my best."

* * *

 _Now_

Sam smiled. Dean looked happier now that he was on his second piece of pie. The first piece had taken the edge off, but the second piece was working its magic. Sam still felt bad about choosing the brand new Impala. It had seemed funny when he'd thought about renting it, but seeing Dean's reactions made him feel bad. He had to admit, the modern Impala was definitely not anywhere near as wonderful as their Impala was.

"I'm still mad at you," Dean said, through a mouthful of pie.

Sam nodded. "I know you are. What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Pie was a good start." Dean motioned with his fork. "But I think I can milk this for a long time."

"Oh, I'm sure you can. And I'm sure you will. I have no doubts."

Dean grinned and ate the last bite of his pie.

Knowing he was doomed, Sam finished his coffee and asked, "So what's the plan for the rest of the day?"

Eyebrows tilted down, Dean considered his question for a moment before answering, "We kinda need toilet paper."

"Yeah, and you're out of shampoo."

"Were you using my shampoo again?" Dean glared at him.

Sam shrugged. "I ran out."

"So you ran out and used _mine_ and now I'm out."

"Yeah." Sam shrugged again.

Dean shook his head, rolling his eyes. He jabbed a finger at the check. "Pay that. And then you're buying me more shampoo. And it's your turn to buy the toilet paper."

He shoved himself out of the booth, muttering and griping about modern cars, and pain in the ass little brothers, and the fact that they had to buy toilet paper.

Sam left the cash on the table and smiled as he followed his brother out the door. It was crazy, he had to admit, that after all these years, they were arguing about whose turn it was to buy the toilet paper. It was crazy. But it was also kind of awesome. Because it was _normal._

And because _they_ were kind of normal.

* * *

Dean felt his phone vibrate, but ignored it. He had five DVDs in his hand and the stack to his right was tilting perilously. Using his elbow, he propped up the stack and reached down for the DVD he'd been fishing for in the five dollar bin. Grasping it with his fingertips, he pulled it out victoriously as the stack and the five DVDs in his other hand all collapsed like a house of cards.

Tossing the DVD into the cart, Dean pulled out his phone.

 _Socks?_

Dean texted back _yes_ and pushed the cart toward the houseware section. Consulting his list, he was glad his brother was off searching for jeans and socks. It gave him more time to browse the appliances. There wasn't anything they needed, but he didn't want to miss it if the Keurig was on sale. He thought the thing was pretty pointless, but it would make a nice birthday present for someone who thought individual servings of pointlessly ridiculous specialty coffees were the best thing since sliced bread.

It wasn't on sale, but Dean wasn't worried. He had plenty of time before Sam's birthday. Glancing at the rest of the kitchen appliances, Dean whistled tunelessly to himself.

Waffle maker. _Check._ Already had one. He'd meant for it to be a Christmas present but it turned out to be more of a February present.

Blender. _Check._ Had one of those too. Sam had been wanting one for his fruity smoothies for ages, but it had actually appeared in the Bunker when _Dean_ had wound up with strep throat and Sam had been trying to make something soft and cold for his throat.

Dean turned the corner and looked at the silverware organizers and dish racks. He was making do without a dish rack, but the silverware drawer situation was out of control. If he speared his fingers on another fork, he was going to lose it. So he grabbed a simple organizer and tossed it into the cart as his phone buzzed again.

 _Did you need t-shirts?_

Pausing for a moment, Dean tried to remember, then texted back, _Yes. Since someone added bleach and burned holes in my last good one._

The bleach episode hadn't really been Sam's fault. They'd both been drunk. And _he'd_ been the one bossing his brother into doing the laundry despite the fact Sam had done more tequila shots than either of them could count. So if Sam had mistakenly thrown in a cup of bleach instead of softener, Dean couldn't really be angry about it.

 _We need bleach too,_ Sam texted back.

Dean snorted and decided he might as well head to that department. He picked up the bleach and a new mop and ran into his brother in front of the toilet paper. Sam barely looked at him, just unloaded the clothing items from his arms into the cart, then went back to studying the toilet paper. Dean fished through the clothes to make sure Sam had picked out the right t-shirts and socks, then waited patiently for his brother to make up his mind about the toilet paper.

He clipped the coupons, but Sam was the one who handled the budget these days, so Dean let him figure out which was the best deal.

"Did you get the printer ink?" Sam asked, frowning and crouching down to reach for a package located at the back of the shelf.

"Yeah. And the labels you wanted for the files."

"Great. Thanks." Sam backed up, then shoved the pack of toilet paper on the bottom rack of the cart. He straightened and immediately began analyzing the contents of the cart.

Dean tapped a finger on the handle of the cart and waited. Other than the silverware organizer and the DVD, he hadn't picked up anything that hadn't been on the list. After a moment, Sam seemed satisfied there were no extraneous purchases and glanced at him.

"Ok," Sam said, checking things off his list, "we should probably get some food while we're here."

Pulling out his _own_ list, Dean nodded. "Eggs. Milk. Cheese. Bacon."

Sam asked, "Creamer?"

"Up to you, your highness." Dean nudged his brother in the hip with the cart.

The only response he received was an eye roll before Sam took off toward the refrigerated food department. Smiling smugly, Dean turned left for the chips. He selected a bag of regular chips to have with the hamburgers he was planning for Wednesday night and a bag of tortilla chips for Thursday's nacho night. Which reminded him they needed pickles for the burgers and ground beef for the nachos.

Picking up the beer on the way, Dean remembered they were out of syrup and headed for the breakfast aisle. He paused to allow a mother with three kids in her cart to pass him. The youngest kid was shouting for pop tarts and Dean didn't want to get in the middle of that. As soon as they moved, he went for the syrup and realized how weird their life had become.

They were _grocery_ shopping, for crying out loud!

At an actual store, not a gas station mini-mart.

He was buying a mop. And an organizer for their silverware drawer. Their _silverware drawer._ Dean smiled and put the syrup into the cart. Making a living hunting monsters didn't seem as weird as having a silverware drawer which just went to show how screwed up his definition of weird was.

Sam met him halfway up the pasta aisle. Dean was engrossed in comparing labels of spaghetti sauce while his brother unloaded the dairy products into the cart.

"We should just get two carts," Sam said, mostly to himself. He usually complained about that at least once a shopping trip but Dean had yet to see his brother go for a second cart.

Hearing him begin to walk away, Dean looked up from the sauce and asked, "Meatballs and mostaccioli or you want lasagna?"

He'd only made lasagna once but it had turned out pretty good.

Sam shrugged and waved a hand. "Whatever you want to do is fine. I don't even know what mostaccioli is."

Dean exchanged a longsuffering look with the two-hundred year old woman who was selecting fettuccine noodles. She shook her head, handed him the penne noodles and hobbled away. Grinning, he set the noodles and sauce into the cart and went for the deli.

He was in charge of the meat situation although he was gratified to know his brother could actually pick out a decent steak if he had to. But ever since the ground turkey fiasco of last year, Sam was banned from buying anything other than prime rib. Dean had informed him that if he wanted to eat that healthy, then he was making his own turkey burgers.

Sam hadn't bought any ground turkey since.

Selecting the ground beef for the nachos and hunting for meatballs because his culinary talents weren't quite that advanced yet, he remembered they were out of cheese slices. And Sam had already done the dairy section. Great. Dean paused with his phone in his hand.

Sam had a thing about not returning to the same aisle twice. It was annoying and weird and a clear sign of his OCD, but Dean had long ago stopped letting it bother him. And he'd stopped purposefully messing with his brother after one very stressful shopping experience. He'd sent his brother back and forth at least half a dozen times pretending he kept forgetting items. It had been hilarious until it hadn't been and it had resulted in him being responsible for doing all the grocery shopping on his own for almost a month.

Dean stared at the phone and weighed his options. He could run back there himself or he could see if there was any chance Sam would go back for them. And then a couple loaves of bread, a package of bagels, and a container of coffee were placed into the cart. Dean put his phone away. If Sam was done with the bread aisle, there was no way he would be willing to go all the way back to the dairy aisle.

"Get pickles," Dean instructed, parking the cart near a display for cupcakes.

"I'm grabbing mustard, too," Sam called out as he disappeared around a corner.

Crossing items off his list, Dean went back for the cheese slices and decided cinnamon rolls sounded good so he grabbed a package.

He picked up the last few items on the list, then stood by the donuts and waited. Sam was in charge of the fruit and vegetable situation. Dean grabbed a couple jelly filled donuts for the trip home, checked everything off on his list, then pulled his phone out.

No calls from the auto shop. Which, really, was to be expected. It had only been a couple hours and it was going to take a couple days. Sighing, he distracted himself with a few levels of _Angry Birds._

"Ok, I think that's everything."

Sam's voice drew his attention from the game. Dean didn't look up as fruits and veggies were set into the cart. He asked, "Did you get shampoo?"

"No."

Dean settled more comfortably against the side of the donut case, eyes on his game. "I'll wait."

Sam huffed, but walked away.

Since it was _his_ fault they were both out of shampoo, Dean just smiled.

* * *

Sam wandered the aisle twice before he found the shampoo Dean preferred. He grabbed two bottles. And then he grabbed two of his own shampoo. Better to stock up than to run out again. About to return to his brother, Sam sighed and grabbed a package of bar soap. And then figured he might as well pick up deodorant while he was at it. Ibuprofen was two aisles back, but they were getting low on that, so he went and grabbed some.

Arms full, he made his way back to his brother. Dean hadn't moved and it was irritating to have to weave his way through the brussel sprouts and bananas again, but Sam kept his mouth shut. Dean was without his car and it might as well have been his right arm he was missing.

Dumping the items into the cart, Sam asked, "Anything else?"

"Don't think so." Dean nudged the cart with his hip, hands still on his phone.

When he didn't look up from the game and didn't move, Sam took it as his cue. He pushed the cart toward the registers and knew his brother would follow eventually. And he did. _After_ Sam had finished unloading everything and then loading everything back into the cart. Week after week, Dean had a sneaky habit of being elsewhere during that time of the shopping trip.

Sam paid for the groceries then followed his brother outside. Dean pushed the cart through the parking lot, and stopped at the rear of the Impala. Sam waited while his brother fiddled with the key. And then he jumped when Dean set off the panic alarm.

"Damn it!" Dean muttered, stabbing at the key fob. "Which one…"

His voice trailed off as he stabbed at the buttons. Sam opened his mouth, then thought better of it and waited. The alarm went mercifully quiet after a few seconds. Sam could hear Dean grumbling under his breath about _stupid modern crap_ and _it's not even a real key._ He had to admit he was on his brother's side. When the key fob had been handed to him at the rental office, Sam had been more than a little confused. He wasn't going to tell his brother, _ever_ , but he'd set the panic alarm off three times before he'd figured out how to unlock the doors.

Speaking of panic alarm…

The alarm went off again and Sam was beginning to feel as frustrated as his brother. Dean was cursing and stabbing at buttons and Sam wanted to take the fob away from him, but he valued his life and his fingers so he didn't. Well aware people were staring at them, Sam tried to ignore them. It was just a good thing they hadn't bought any ice cream, he decided, because it would be melted by the time Dean figured out how to get the doors unlocked.

The alarm stopped. Both of them took a deep breath of relief and then Dean pushed another button. Sam heard the click of the door locks and smiled at the satisfied expression on Dean's face. It took three rounds of Dean locking and unlocking the doors before he finally hit the button to open the trunk.

They stared into the trunk for a moment.

"Not enough room in there for a body," Dean observed, tilting his head to the left.

Sam raised his eyebrows, thankful no one was standing close. "Don't say stuff like that out loud! Are you crazy? Besides, when have we ever needed to put a body in the-"

"Crowley." Dean grinned, reaching for the first of the grocery bags. "I put Crowley in the trunk."

He had a point. But Sam still didn't think discussing bodies and whether or not they would fit in the trunk was a topic for polite conversation in a grocery store parking lot. So he hushed his brother, then finished loading the groceries.

Climbing back into the car, Sam had to admit the ability to adjust his seat to suit his own needs was a good feature. The car still seemed too cramped, but it did help to be able to push the seat back enough to have some leg room. He buckled up and waited for Dean to start the car. His brother didn't have as much trouble starting the car as he'd had unlocking it, which was good.

Dean grimaced as the less than impressive V6 started up. He grumbled but put his own seat belt on. Sam expected him to put the car into drive, but Dean was fiddling with buttons and dials.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked after he'd watched his brother mess with the controls for a moment.

"Air conditioning. Which one of these works the air?"

"Uh…" Sam joined his brother in assessing the controls. "These have blue and red trim on the dials. Probably air and heat?"

"Probably." Dean started turning the control nearest him. Nothing happened.

Sam turned the other control. Nothing. After a few tries, Dean hit the right button and they felt cool air. After that, they spent a minute playing with the controls. The ability to be able to adjust their own temperature was neat, Sam had to admit. Dean didn't admit anything, but he seemed to like that feature.

Dean started fiddling with the control buttons on the steering wheel and discovered he could change the radio station with one touch of his finger and the volume with another without ever needing to move his hand from the wheel. Another cool feature. The touch screen was user friendly and Sam explored the options. The ability to use the bluetooth to make a phone call through the car's speakers could come in handy.

By the time Dean put the car into reverse and they took in the magic that was a backup camera, Sam realized they'd been sitting there playing with the controls for almost ten minutes.

"You ever stop to think that we're getting old?"

Dean's eyebrows rose and he shook his head. "Where did that come from?"

Smiling, Sam waved a hand at the controls. "We just sat here for ten minutes figuring out how to work the controls."

"Yeah, well it's cuz this car sucks and is a spaceship not a car. Why's it gotta be this complicated? I want a key, a _real_ key, not a remote. I don't want a television in my car, Sam. Back up cam is great and all that but when did people stop using their own eyes? And I don't need five hundred buttons. Give me a radio dial and control over the temperature."

Sam smiled, not disagreeing.

They drove for a few minutes in silence. Sam tried to roll down his window and Dean discovered the joys of parental controls and locked the window on him. Sam retaliated by turning the heated seat on without his brother realizing it. Watching Dean continuously up the AC on his side while squirming uncomfortably was a twisted, yet satisfying, way to pass the time.

"You think we're getting old?" Dean asked once they'd hit the main road back to the bunker.

Surprised his brother was back to that topic, Sam shrugged. "I mean, we are, I guess. Right? It is kind of inevitable."

Dean snorted, then tapped a finger on the steering wheel, considering. After a moment, he said, "Sometimes I feel old."

Sam felt the same way, but decided to lighten the mood. He patted Dean on the shoulder and said, "It's ok, man. You got a few years left till I have to put you in the nursing home."

Dean broke out laughing and it sounded good.

 _He doesn't do that enough these days,_ Sam thought with a pang of sorrow. But he was laughing right now, so Sam decided to enjoy the moment.


	2. Chapter 2

For the next two days, they didn't go anywhere.

Dean insisted it was because there was so much to do around the Bunker and they finally had time to get a few things accomplished. He knew Sam was allowing the ruse even though they both knew the real reason they weren't going anywhere was because Dean didn't want to drive the shiny black 2017 Chevrolet Impala.

Initially, he had failed to see the humor in Sam's decision to rent that particular car. But he didn't find the situation quite as frustrating as he had at first, although he still didn't like the car. It could have all the bells and whistles and fancy toys, but it wasn't _his_ car and he was glad he didn't have to keep it.

"Dean?"

He looked up from the pieces of shelving in front of him and called out, "In here."

"Where's here?" Sam's voice sounded further away.

"Turn around," Dean shouted back.

A moment later, his brother appeared in the doorway. "Hey."

"Hey." Dean stretched his legs out and leaned back against the wall. "What's up?"

Sam was studying the mess in front of him and Dean could tell he had about thirty seconds before his brother was going to be on his knees sorting the pieces of wood and screws by size and type.

"How's the project going?" Sam asked, taking a step closer.

When he leaned over to grab one of the boards, Dean punched him in the side of the leg. "Hands off. My bookshelf. My project."

"You could be done now if-"

"I've got it under control."

Sam frowned, looking from him back to the boards. He was _itching_ to organize the mess. Dean knew Sam's organizational expertise would make the project go faster, but he wasn't really in a hurry. It was his Saturday project and he had all day. He'd put it off all week so he would have it to work on today. Because it was Saturday and that was the day people worked on projects. He'd figured that out during the year he'd lived with Lisa and Ben.

Normal people worked around the house on Saturday if they weren't out grilling or playing baseball. Now that he had a place to call his own, Dean liked having a project to do on the weekends when they weren't out hunting monsters. They usually worked on the larger projects together, but this was just for him.

"So what's up?" Dean prompted when Sam continued to stare at the boards.

"Lunch." Sam glanced at him. "And the shop called."

Dean was on his feet. "What'd they say?"

"We can pick her up anytime." Sam smiled.

"Let's go." Dean pushed past him, leaving his Saturday project for later.

"Lunch first."

"Nah, we can eat when we get back."

"We're eating now," Sam countered. "I put a lot of time and effort into the meal so you will eat it before we go."

Dean headed toward the kitchen, casting his brother a knowing look. "Time and effort, huh?"

"Yes. It's a culinary masterpiece."

"You reheated the mostaccioli, didn't you?"

Sam grinned. "I even sprinkled cheese on top."

"Please tell me you used the splatter shield. I'm sick of cleaning the microwave," Dean griped. "It takes _one_ second to put the cover-"

"I used the cover."

"So no pasta sauce all over my microwave?"

" _Your_ microwave?"

"My microwave."

"Technically, we bought it using half of my winnings from that pool game in Tupelo," Sam said as they entered the kitchen. "So it's _our_ microwave."

"How do you even remember stuff like that?" Dean muttered. His stomach growled at the amazing smell as he sat down at the table. Shaking his head, he said, "We better never get a divorce, Sammy. I mean, who's gonna get the microwave? Who's gonna get the fine china?"

Smiling, Sam handed him a beer and sat down across from him. "I want the microwave. You can keep the splatter shield."

"You want the china?" Dean asked around a mouthful of mostaccioli.

"No, you can have it. I'll take the library."

"The whole thing, huh?"

"The whole thing."

"I bought some of those books." Dean shook his head.

"Take it up with my lawyer."

Dean almost spit beer all over the table. Once he'd contained his laughter, he said, "Don't tell me we're gonna have to fight for custody of my Baby. Cuz she's _mine._ All mine. Always has been and always will be."

Sam paused, fork halfway to his mouth. After a moment's consideration, he said, "Visitation rights?"

"Sure." Dean grinned.

They fell silent as they dug into the reheated pasta. Dean couldn't wait to get his car back, but he had been hungry and had to admit the leftovers tasted pretty great with cheese sprinkled on top. Still amused by their conversation, something hit him that he'd never really thought of before.

Finishing a bite, he asked, "Do you want a car?"

Sam's eyebrows rose and he paused, fork halfway to his mouth again. "What?"

"A car. Do you want one?"

"Uh...I'm confused."

"It's a simple question, genius."

Sam set his fork down and said, "You did hear me say we can pick the Impala-"

"I heard you. This doesn't have anything to do with the Impala."

"Okaaaay," Sam drew the word out.

"So?"

"Do I want a car? Why would I need a car? Are you kicking me out?"

"Yes, Sam," Dean said as seriously as he could, "After thirty-whatever years, I'm kicking you out."

"I'm taking my half of the library," Sam said and this time _his_ mouth was full of pasta. "And the microwave."

Dean rolled his eyes and reached for his beer.

"Seriously." Sam frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Setting the beer down, Dean studied his brother. All these years and it had never occurred to him. Dad had given him the keys to the Impala and they'd been on the road together ever since. Barring a few periods spent apart, they'd been together. And, other than a brief period when he'd been without his soul, Sam had never had a car of his own.

"All these years, driving around with me, you never wanted your own car?"

"Sometimes. Especially whenever you were being a jerk." Sam smiled. "But why's this coming up now? I mean, we've got a system and it's been workin' for us for years. You don't want me riding with-"

"That's not it," Dean cut him off. "I'm not tryin' to change anything. I mean, the Impala's ours, Sam. Sure, I drive most of the time, but you know she's yours too, right?"

"Yeah."

"I can't imagine not having my wheels. Even having that piece of crap rental isn't the same. It's not mine. I just never thought about it before. That you've never had a car of your own."

Sam smiled again and shrugged. "It's not a big deal."

"You want one?" Dean offered, feeling oddly bothered by something he'd never once thought about before. "I mean, we could get you a car. We could still use the Impala for huntin' but you could have your own car now."

"Actually, I already have one."

Dean grinned. "You do, do you?"

"Yeah."

"So got it all tucked up in mothballs somewhere for a rainy day?" Dean played along.

"Yes."

They fell silent. Dean narrowed his eyes and waited for the punchline. When it didn't come, his mind began reeling. He was being serious? Sam was smiling the way he always did when he knew something Dean didn't. _Is it possible?_

Clearing his throat, Dean decided to continue pursuing the topic. "You have a car. In mothballs?"

"It's not in mothballs because that would be bad for the paint job." Sam took a sip of his beer and nodded, obviously enjoying the situation. "But it's tucked up in a safe place."

"You're not joking."

"I'm not joking."

"You seriously have a car."

"I seriously have a car."

Dean shook his head, completely flabbergasted. "You have a car and you're just mentioning it now? How long have you had a car?"

"Since I didn't have my soul."

Dean spit beer across the table.

Sam passed him a stack of napkins.

"Thanks," Dean said, mopping up the mess. "How the hell do you have a car from then that I don't know about?"

"Well." Sam shrugged. He gave it some thought, then said, "Things were pretty complicated for a few years there."

"For a few years? When _haven't_ things been pretty complicated?"

Sam laughed. "Ok you're right. They've always been complicated."

"Yeah. So start explaining."

"Remember the Charger I had...well, _soulless_ me had?"

"That plastic piece of crap Cas smashed?"

"Yes. That one."

"What about it?"

"I kept it."

"You kept it." Dean's jaw dropped. "How? I mean, all this time, everything that's happened? And you never thought to mention it? And why did you keep a smashed up car anyway?"

"I liked it."

"You didn't have a soul."

"I still liked the car, Dean." Sam smiled.

Dean waved a hand. "What's there to like?"

"Dude, I've got a 6.1 litre Hemi under that plastic hood." And he sounded so pleased about it that Dean couldn't help but be proud. "Zero to sixty in five seconds."

Still struggling to adapt to the knowledge that his brother had kept a Dodge Charger SRT8 hidden away for six years, Dean said, "It was smashed."

Sam nodded. "I had it towed, repaired and then stowed."

"You did all that, didn't tell me, and then you just went back to ridin' shotgun with me even though you still didn't have a soul?"

"I can't explain it, man." Sam shrugged. "I wasn't all there. Literally. I liked the car, still do. So I had it taken care of so I could get it back when I wanted it."

"So why did you start riding with me again?"

"Well, for one thing, my car was in pieces at the time."

"Yeah, I guess that was an issue."

"It was."

"So you just rode with me because your car was smashed?"

"I didn't have a soul remember?"

"I know, I know."

"I don't think I intended to stay on the road with you forever," Sam said, tracing a finger along the edge of the table. "It was just the logical and convenient thing to do right then."

Dean could see the validity in that. "What I still don't get is why you haven't said a word about having a car for all these years."

"Didn't seem important."

"You have your own set of wheels sitting in a garage somewhere and it wasn't important." Dean shook his head. "Even after you got your soul back?"

"We were dealing with a lot of crap, Dean," Sam said softly, studying the bottle in his hand. "I wasn't exactly thinking straight right then."

And, yeah, they had been dealing with a lot of crap. A _lot_ of crap. The memories flashed through his mind in an ugly montage of pain. Cas' betrayal resulting in the wall in Sam's head collapsing. Bobby's death. Purgatory. Everything that happened after he'd escaped that place. It still seemed crazy that Sam wouldn't have said anything about the car, but Dean knew Sam was right; he _hadn't_ been thinking straight.

"So where is it?" Dean asked, ready to move on to a less depressing subject.

"Pennsylvania." Sam looked up at him. "That's where we were when it got smashed. I didn't have a lot of time so I made the arrangements and left it there. I always meant to go get it, but I don't really need it, you know?"

Dean couldn't help but smile. Something deep down inside him warmed at the admission. He'd known for some time now that Sam wasn't going anywhere, wasn't leaving him. But it still meant something to hear Sam was content to stay by his side in the Impala. A second car could come in handy at times when they needed to split up.

"You wanna go get it?" Dean asked, deciding it was about time his brother had his own car.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you hear what I said? I don't need it."

"I know. And I'm cool with that, but…"

"But?" Sam prompted when his voice trailed off.

Mind made up, Dean said, "But I think we should go get it."

"Why?"

"Sometimes having a second car would be handy. We could cover more ground on some cases." Dean held up a hand to hold back the protest he knew was coming. "I'm not saying every case or all the time. Besides cases, sometimes we do like to do our own thing. You could take your car and go to the library and I can-"

"Go pick up a girl?" Sam grinned.

Dean grinned back. "You wanna go there, Mr. Night Moves? What was that waitress's name again?"

"Shut up," Sam muttered, but he was still smiling.

"I'm just sayin' there's no reason not to get the car. An extra vehicle isn't a bad thing." Dean could see Sam was considering it. So he added, "Besides, you like the car, right?"

Sam nodded.

"I'm guessing you didn't just boost it because it was convenient."

"I didn't steal it," Sam said. "Working with the Campbells had its perks. They had some money and I got to pick out what I wanted."

"Well, I'm relieved to discover your taste in cars doesn't entirely suck at least."

"Thanks."

"So. Road trip? Once I get my baby back, that is. I'm not galavanting across the country in that...thing."

"Galavanting?" Sam looked amused.

"Whatever. I'm not driving that thing anywhere but to pick up my car. Then you can return it from whence it came."

Sam's eyes widened. " _From whence it came_? Who are you and what did you do with my brother?"

"Shut up. You want your car or what?" Dean asked.

Sam considered the question for a moment, then said, "Yeah. I do actually."

Dean smiled. Considering he'd kept the car in storage for six years without saying a word about it, Sam looked pretty excited about the prospect of getting it back.

Nodding, Dean said, "Ok. So, road trip. Finish lunch, pack a bag, pick up my Baby and we'll go get yours."

* * *

Sam hadn't expected his brother's reaction to the revelation that he had a car. He was kind of surprised by his own admission about the car. It had been years since he'd even thought about the Charger. It had never seemed important and it surprised him how seriously Dean was taking it. He couldn't help but smile as he reflected on their conversation earlier. Dean had felt bad about him never having a car of his own.

It was unexpected and...sweet.

He thought about saying so aloud just to annoy his brother, but, at the moment, Dean was already annoyed.

There had been no griping about the rental Impala for almost fifteen entire minutes. Dean had been too busy packing to gripe. But now? Now that they were packed and ready to leave?

"It looks like a granny car," Dean griped as they loaded their gear in the too small trunk.

"Don't insult all the nice grannies out there, Dean." Sam elbowed his brother out of the way so he could try to cram his gear into the trunk. "Be thankful I didn't get you a Prius. Or a Taurus."

Dean shuddered. "Now _that_ is a granny car. Ick."

" _Ick_?" Sam repeated, rolling his eyes. "Really? Ick?"

"Damn straight _ick._ " Dean slammed the trunk closed. He stared disdainfully at the car, then asked in a legitimate whine, "Can we go now?"

Sam motioned to the keys in Dean's hand. "You've got the keys."

"No, I have the _remote control,_ " Dean muttered, eyes narrowed as he studied the key fob. "It's a remote control car. What happened to cars that were _machines_? Cars that were badass. Now they all look the same. And they're _remote controlled._ Why?"

He'd only half been listening to his brother's complaining, but Sam picked up on the fact Dean was expecting an answer right now. They were still standing at the rear of the car and he'd been daydreaming about his Charger. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Sam glanced at his brother and saw the torment in his eyes. This was very serious to him.

Stifling a smile, Sam said, "It's for the convenience. Remote start in the winter? Warm car to get into? Air conditioned in the summer? Easy to unlock doors and pop the trunk."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean muttered, glaring daggers at the unfortunate _remote control_ car. "But it's a piece of crap that looks like every other piece of crap out there."

Considering the car's lineage, Sam did have to admit it was lacking. Glancing at his watch, he realized he needed to get things moving. They didn't have a lot of time to pick up their Impala and return this one.

"We should go," Sam said, holding a hand out. "Let me drive."

"Like hell." Dean closed his fist around the keys and stormed toward the driver's side door.

Sam sighed. Rolled his eyes. Got into the passenger seat. Listened to Dean continue to gripe. Buckling his seatbelt, Sam said, "You're getting Baby back in under an hour. Why don't you just let me drive? I can drop you off and then I can take this car back."

Dean ignored him and started the car.

Resigning himself, Sam settled back for the drive.

A few minutes into the drive, he realized his butt was on fire. Dean grinned triumphantly and laughed. Sam decided maybe seat warmers and remote control cars weren't all they were cracked up to be.

* * *

"Oh Baby, how I've missed you." Dean smiled as he took in the sight of the Impala sitting out in front of the repair shop. Parking the rental, he tossed the remote at his brother without even looking at him. "Get the crap."

"Yes, your highness," Sam mocked him as he got out of the car.

Dean ignored him and hurried into the shop. It took longer than he would have preferred to listen to the mechanic's report on the car and pay for the repairs, but finally he had his keys back. The repairs had gone well, he'd been assured. Not that he didn't trust them...but he didn't trust them. So he spent the next ten minutes under the hood checking.

Sam was busy loading their gear back into the trunk. A trunk where everything fit easily and didn't need to be crammed in like sardines. Dean sank into his seat with a happy sigh, running his hand down the wheel. When he heard the trunk slam, he pulled his door closed and rolled down the window.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" He peered up at his brother, revving the engine.

"You ready?"

Dean allowed the roar of the V8 to be his answer.

Sam rolled his eyes and backed away. He raised his voice to be heard over the engine. "You gonna remember to pick me up?"

Dean grinned, put the car in gear and tore out of the parking lot.

He saw his brother throw his hands up in resignation and walk to the 2017 Impala. Dean left the repair shop in the dust. The open road was ahead of him and only one stop sign stood between him and a flat stretch of freedom. For a moment, as he pulled up to the stop sign, he was twenty-six again.

The world an undiscovered adventure ahead of him.

The problems he'd faced at twenty-six had been staggering even though, somehow, they seemed small in comparison to everything he'd faced since. At twenty-six, after a lifetime of working and living side by side with his father and his brother, he'd been alone for the first time. It had been terrifying and exhilarating. He'd been faced with trying to locate his father and deal with monsters at every turn.

And then Sam.

How many moments of his life could be summed up with those three words? Almost all of them. He'd gone to pick up his brother to help find their dad, and then Sam had watched his girlfriend die in front of his eyes. On top of his worry over his father, Dean had been faced with trying to help a heartbroken little brother. A little brother he wasn't sure he even know anymore. And then Sam had developed superpowers right under his nose.

He'd been so far in over his head that he hadn't even been able to see daylight anymore.

But before all that, Dean remembered sitting at a stop sign just like this one. Empty stretch of blacktop leading him west. The last moment before he'd made his decision. The last moment he'd had a life all to himself. He'd sat there, deep in thought, just like he was now. Hindsight was 20/20 and, at this exact moment, Dean couldn't begin to fathom why he'd ever hesitated that night.

His gaze was drawn to the rear view mirror and he smiled a little when he saw the 2017 Impala slow to a stop behind him. Sam was holding his hands up in a questioning way. Dean turned slightly and gave his brother a thumbs up, then turned back and took a deep breath.

Open road ahead.

World still an undiscovered adventure ahead of him.

He could easily put the pedal to the floor and go for a spin. Sam would understand. He'd take the rental back and wait until Dean returned. Dean realized that, for as often as Sam had walked away from him, he'd also _waited_ for him.

Smiling, Dean took another glance at the road ahead. And then he turned right at the stop sign and lead the way to the rental office. Sam followed him and Dean let his brother handle the transaction. He remained comfortably settled behind the wheel of his car with his music playing; he had no desire to be near the modern Chevy again.

Sam pulled the door open and ducked into the car.

"You could've picked me up," Sam said, settling back into his seat in a way that made Dean think his brother was just as happy to have their car back as he was.

"What do you call this?" Dean asked, accelerating down the road.

"I mean, you could've gone for a drive first. I know you wanted to take her for a spin."

"What do you call this?" Dean repeated.

Sam smiled, resting his arm on the door, apparently content not to pursue the topic further.

Dean couldn't help but grin as they came to the stop sign again. One right turn stood between them and the never ending road. Today it was leading them to Pennsylvania and his little brother's Dodge Charger SRT8.

"You know I'm intending to kick your ass all the way home, right?" Dean asked, still sitting at the stop sign.

"You can try." Sam's smile widened at the suggestion of a race. After a minute passed, he waved a hand toward the windshield. "You plannin' to move sometime today?"

Dean nodded, eyes on the horizon. The road ahead was theirs. No one as far as the eye could see in any direction. His thoughts drifted back to that stop sign twelve years ago. He could've picked any direction that day. Dad had been gone. Sam had been gone.

He could've made a right turn or a left turn and gone his own way, and started his own life. But he'd gone straight. Straight toward the only life he'd ever known or cared about. Straight toward the most important person in his life.

Straight toward the future.

Dean smiled, knowing his brother was wondering what was taking so long.

"You ever stop to think about all the roads we've been on over the years?"

Sam's voice drew him out of his reverie. Dean glanced at him. Obviously his brother was involved in his own moment of reflection.

Catching his gaze, Sam smiled. "We should've started marking the roads on a map."

"Aw, Sammy, we need to get you a scrapbook." Dean grinned. "Get you some stickers and stencils."

"Shut up. And drive, will you?" Sam waved a hand. "You're gonna be the first guy to get a ticket for not _going_ after stopping at a stop sign."

"You'll bail me out."

"You're so sure about that?"

Dean grinned and finally accelerated down the road.

* * *

They were silent for almost twenty minutes before Sam asked, "What were you thinking about back there?"

"Back where?"

"Back at the stop sign." Sam shifted, resting his elbow on the open window. "You were sitting there forever and you looked like you had something on your mind."

Dean shrugged. "It wasn't anything."

"Dude, you sat at a stop sign for almost five minutes. You seldom _stop_ at a stop sign let alone _stay_ stopped at a stop sign."

Whatever it had been, Dean was in no hurry to share details. Which made Sam all the more interested in getting his brother to share those details. He opened his mouth to press his brother but, to his surprise, Dean spoke up before he could.

"I was thinking about the day I went to pick you up."

Eyebrows raised, Sam asked, "Uh. You wanna narrow it down for me?"

"Stanford."

"Oh." That hadn't been what he'd been expecting and Sam wasn't sure what to make of it.

Dean glanced at him as if sensing his curiosity. He shrugged and said, "It's nothing."

The statement alone told Sam it _wasn't_ nothing. He waited, knowing if he didn't push, he'd be more likely to get an answer. And, sure enough, a moment later, Dean spoke up again.

"I don't know why, but sitting at the stop sign, I just thought back to that night. I was sitting at another stop sign trying to figure out my life and what I was supposed to do." Dean took a deep breath, settled more comfortably in his seat, then said, "Dad was in the wind-"

"And you came to get me."

"Yeah."

"Crazy to think it's been twelve years." Sam shook his head. It didn't even seem possible for it to have been that long.

Dean nodded. "Crazy."

"You ever regret-"

"No," Dean cut him off before he could finish. "I don't."

Sam smiled. "Me neither."

Dean looked away, smiling. There'd been plenty of things to regret over the years and Sam was sure Dean had his own list. But it was reassuring to know this wasn't on either of their lists.

"So," Dean said, motioning to the road ahead.

"So." Sam nodded, resting his arm on the back of the seat and shifting to look at him. "You sure you wanna do this? I mean, we've got a lot on our plates right now and the car isn't really important-"

"Yeah. It is."

Sam smiled. "It's just a car, Dean."

"Damn straight it's just a car," Dean said, grinning and patting the dashboard. "It's not my Baby."

Sam rolled his eyes. "And it's not my _baby_ either, dude. It's a car."

"Well I'm glad you aren't intending to name the car _Baby 2_ or something dorky like that."

Sam laughed and turned the radio up.

"Think we can get to Pennsylvania and back without the world ending?" Dean asked.

"What? Again?"

They both broke out laughing.

Maybe they'd make it back without the world ending in the meantime or maybe they wouldn't. Sam decided it didn't really matter. They were together and _that_ was what mattered. It was the only thing that ever had.

And the only thing that ever would.

* * *

 **Ok, the premise of this story was born when I came across a website that pointed out Sam was driving a 2006 Dodge Charger in the episode "The Raid" when he went to meet Mary. The site hypothesized that it was the same car from episode 6.1 "Exile on Main Street" and 6.3 "The Third Man." Whether or not it's truly the same car, the idea of Sam having kept the Charger sparked my imagination. I love the idea that the car he drove in "the Raid" was his own car. It's plausible, I think, and I tried to give it as reasonable an explanation here that I could. :)**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


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